


The Library

by Eliya



Series: Circa '44 [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, AU-powers, Charles is a sweetheart, Cherik - Freeform, Erik is a ball of emotions, Kid!Charles, Kid!Cherik, Kid!Erik, Little!Cherik, M/M, Westchester, Wilson the turtle, childhood cherik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliya/pseuds/Eliya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he had first heard Erik’s voice in his mind four weeks ago, it was like scraping both knees ten times over. Erik had been full of anger and confusion and tears. He’d stumbled over Charles’ fence, dirty and wounded, and it had taken Charles forever just to get him to quiet his thoughts down. Now, as Charles listened, he couldn’t believe the same boy was standing in his library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the second installment of Circa '44! Thank you to everyone who read/left kudos, it warmed my heart c: Enjoy!

_"Good morning," said the fox._

_"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing._

_"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."_

_"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."_

_"I am a fox," said the fox._

_"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."_

_"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."_

_"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince._

_But, after some thought, he added:_

_"What does that mean — 'tame'?"_

_"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"_

_"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean — 'tame'?"_

_"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"_

_"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean — 'tame'?"_

_"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."_

_"'To establish ties'?"_

_"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."_

*~*

_June, 1944_

“Good morning, Wilson,” Charles greeted his stuffed toy turtle and nuzzled it.

Charles set Wilson down on the bed beside him as he bent to roll up his socks. He slipped on his small leather shoes and tucked in his shirt tail. He made to pick up Wilson once more when a sharp screech rang through his head. Charles cried out and tucked his head between his knees, urging the voice, the cook, to please _shut up._

After a few moments, the cook’s shock and panic went silent. Charles blew out a shaky breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. He sniffed. His temples ached and all he wanted to do roll back under the covers. His power always had to ruin _everything._

He gave Wilson a miserable squeeze and threw back his bedsheet in frustration.

Charles was just about to plop himself back into bed when another familiar voice grazed his mind.

_Erik._ Charles perked up and allowed himself to listen. He didn’t poke around, not wanting to jump Erik into a panic, but Erik was thinking so loudly he didn’t have to.

A warm, fuzzy feeling flowed through Charles. _Books, shelves, stories,_ Erik’s voice echoed among German words. Charles’ round face split into a grin. Erik was in the library.

Charles chuckled to himself and fell back into the bed, tossing Wilson up and catching him with glee. Charles laughed until his cheeks ached and his stomach hurt. He felt giddy at the happiness radiating off Erik.

When he had first heard Erik’s voice in his mind four weeks ago, it was like scraping both knees ten times over. Erik had been full of anger and confusion and tears. He’d stumbled over Charles’ fence, dirty and wounded, and it had taken Charles forever just to get him to quiet his thoughts down. Now, as Charles listened, he couldn’t believe the same boy was standing in his library.

*~*

Charles cracked open the door to the second floor of the library. He slipped through on tiptoes, feeling like a spy sneaking around on one of his secret missions. The floorboards creaked despite Charles’ care, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. He lowered himself down against the banister, the balcony overlooking the main chamber of the library. He spotted Erik below him, tiny beside the vast shelves of books.

Charles had raced there the moment he found that Erik was in the library again. The sudden peace in Erik’s thoughts made Charles so curious, he just _had_ to see.

And see he did.

The whole room seemed to buzz with the delight Erik was giving off. Erik walked along the shelves, pausing every so often to inspect a title that caught his eye, and his fingers would ghost up and down the spines in wonder. He looked through every desk and glass cabinet, even unlocked the heavy wooden chests with his powers if needed. He hardly ever opened a book, but whenever he did, he would release a wave of energy unlike any other. Many of the books Erik opened were in languages he didn’t know, but Charles could feel each foreign word settle in his mind like a fallen snowflake.

Charles spent many days this way. He watched Erik without interrupting him, not yet ready to pull Erik from his peace. And if a warm feeling began spreading through his chest whenever he did, well, no one had to know.

*~*

One day in late August, Charles woke up with a plan. A plan to make friends with Erik.

He breezed through his shower and breakfast that morning, shaking with excitement. He sat in the corner couch of the dining parlor and waited for the telltale sound of Erik’s shoes. Sure enough, they were tapping in the hallway before long.

Erik entered the dining room the way he always did: stiff, eyes pointed down, hands pinned to his sides. But as he caught a glimpse of Charles’ empty plate, his eyebrows lifted, breaking his passive mask.

“Would you like to go to the library today?” Charles offered. Erik’s eyes went wide. “It’s one of my favorite places to go,” Charles told him.

Charles cringed as conflicting emotions passed from Erik’s mind to his own. He wished Erik could stop being so difficult and just relax.

Finally, Erik’s thoughts quieted down and he nodded once. Charles beamed at him. “After your breakfast, then.”

“Now,” Erik said before he could stop himself, surprising them both.

After a moment, Charles laughed and hopped off his couch. “Okay, let’s go!” he grinned, and shot off like an arrow.

Charles cut through the parlor and the sitting room, taking the shortest route to the library. His footfalls pounded along the hardwood floor and the halls raced past him. Not once did he look back. He knew Erik was right behind him. He could feel the eagerness pouring off him as well.

The boys ran and ran and didn’t even hesitate at the carved mahogany doors. They were slightly ajar, so Charles and Erik slipped right through, only stopping when they reached the center of the main room.

“Welcome to the library,” Charles beamed, spreading his arms like a king.

The familiar look of wonder fell across Erik’s face. Even though Erik had been there dozens of times before, amazement never failed to wash over him. Charles could always feel it, even from the farthest corners of the mansion.

“Erik,” Charles began. Erik’s eyes dragged themselves away from the rows of shelves surrounding them. “I know you’ve come here before. You could have just told me,” Charles said, trying to keep his tone light. Despite his efforts, Erik shifted his feet and scratched the back of his neck.

“An accident,” Erik said, struggling with the language. “Sorry.”

Charles had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Why was Erik being so _odd_? Charles wasn’t going to hurt him.

“I don’t mind,” Charles shrugged. “Why do you like books so much anyway?”

Charles regretted the words immediately. Erik’s eyes turned hard as flint. He strode over to one of the shelves, gripped the wood and bowed his head, a sudden tension running through him. Charles watched as Erik’s knuckles turned white.

A weight settled in his stomach. “A-are you alright?” Charles asked. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” He walked over to where Erik was and laid a hand on his shoulder. His mind flashed _no angry no gone please_ at the contact, and Charles had to steel himself to keep his hand there.

Erik’s slight frame was shaking. “No.”

Impatience laced Charles’ worry. “Erik, if you’ll be staying with me for a while, I might as well know,” he sighed. He started as a growl rang from Erik’s throat.

Charles almost took a step back when Erik finally looked at him. His eyes were big and red and misty and his lips stood out against his pale face. When Erik spoke, his voice sounded choked and broken. “My mother. She reads stories to me, before sleep.”

“Oh! That’s lovely, Erik, I wished my mother did--”

The iron frame of the entire room shuddered, and latches and cabinet knobs started to dent and groan. Charles’ heart jumped to his throat, a sudden fear stealing through him.

“She’s _dead_ ,” Erik sobbed, turning away. And once he began, he couldn’t stop. “I got out, need to,” hysteria clawed at his voice, “he _killed_ her, and I’m angry and everything was moving and _wütend, böse,_ metal all--”

A violent cough racked Erik’s body. Charles gripped his shoulders and tried to steady him. Steel rods and hinges ripped from their places and slammed into each other. Screws and nails were flying overhead now, threatening to pierce their skin. Everything in Charles screamed at him to run, leave, stop, or force Erik’s mind, but _no_ , it was _wrong_ , so Charles whimpered and stayed where he was.

“Out, I ran, on a truck, plane, away, I got away,” Erik gasped. He screwed his eyes shut and tears leaked from them. His cheeks were flushed and his chest was heaving, and he drew in a ragged breath. “And--”

Erik’s eyes looked up and searched Charles’ face frantically, and for a moment the world was still.

“ _He let me,_ ” he gasped.

Erik’s grip went slack and he collapsed, curling and drawing his knees to his chest. He sobbed and rocked at Charles’ feet, and broken cries clawed their way out his throat. Charles’ ears rang as he struggled to block Erik’s turbulent mind from his own. The metal pieces around them dropped one by one, but neither boys heard them fall.

Charles struggled for breath as he watched Erik break down before him. He was scared and confused, and had no idea what to do. It was mothers who always did the right thing in times like these, but poor Erik didn’t seem to have one anymore. Erik needed him in that moment, Charles realized. Erik needed someone, anyone, a friend to fill up the gaping hole that his mother had left in his heart. Charles steadied his breath and tightened his fists, and decided that person would be him.

Cautiously, Charles lowered himself to sit next to Erik. He drew an arm around Erik’s shoulders, unsure, and tried to hold the other boy to him like how mothers always did. It was an awkward fit that left Charles embarrassed, but he stayed where he was.

Charles pressed his other hand to his temple and concentrated. He tried his best to ease Erik’s mind with thought of blankets and warmth and a woman’s voice. Erik wailed and cried, and let himself drown in it, sinking into the safety of the memories he held closest to his heart.

*~*

Erik’s sobs became sighs, and the metal rolled along the floor in unison with his breaths. On the bottom shelf beside Charles, he spotted a small book. It was only a recent addition to the library, but it was one of his favorites.

He pulled the book from its place and opened it to a dog-eared page. He settled himself into a cross-legged position, tucking himself next to Erik. He began to read.

_"Good morning," said the fox._


End file.
